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08 October, 2013

Cancer by Simon P Clark

Welcome to Part Five of my 12-part Zodiac Blog Series. On Tuesdays in
autumn I'm posting a story or poem each written especially for this blog
by a different author. Each piece of writing has taken one of the signs
of the zodiac as its inspiration. For the full list of participants -
from established authors to first-time writers - plus the posting
schedule and links to previous stories and poems, please visit the Zodiac Blog Series Page.

Story Five is inspired by Cancer and written by Simon P Clark.

Simon P. Clark is a British writer living and working in the U.S. After
graduating, he lived in Japan for three years, before moving to New
Jersey for more adventures. His debut children's novel Eren will be
published Autumn 2014 by Constable & Robinson's Much-In-Little
Imprint. You can find Simon on his blog or on Twitter, and follow his progress on Goodreads and a website for debut children's authors in 2014.

(Simon has been doing a particularly sterling job at tweeting and facebooking links to the other stories in the series - see if you can show him some love in return!)
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The crab was dead. There was nothing else
to say.

‘S’dead,’ said Sam. He sniffed.

‘That crab,’ he added, flicking his head.
‘Dead.’

Lucy glared at him. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘No
way.’

Sam shrugged. ‘Just saying’.

It was lying on the concrete floor, a shock
of pink and orange. It was upside down and dry and wrong. One claw was broken
off and lying a few inches from where it should have been.

‘Where’d it even come from?’ said Lucy. ‘Do
we have crabs round here?’

‘There was one on the news,’ said Sam. ‘A
bunch. All acting weird. Jumping out of water and dancing and … stuff.’

‘Oh. ‘

‘Maybe this one
went mad too,’ said Sam.

A door opened down the hall. They turned.
An old lady stared at them, misty eyes, a faded dressing gown hanging from thin
shoulders. The light was bad. The walls were grey – council estate chic, Lucy’s dad always said with an odd, empty
laugh. It was never very funny.

‘That’s old Barmy Madge,’ whispered Sam. He
moved forward, in front of the crab. Lucy gave him a look. He pulled a face.

‘I dunno,’ he whispered. Somewhere down the
hall, in one of the flats, music was playing – jazz, something with a trumpet
and drums.

‘You!’ screeched Madge. She peered down the
hallway. Her hand never left the door frame. ‘You! Have you seen him? Have you? Where is he?
Please!’

‘What?’ said Lucy. ‘What?’

‘Please! Where is he? Who took him?’

‘What’s that?’ said Sam

Madge leaned out further, never letting her
hands leave the door.

‘Twelve!’ she said. ‘Twelve! So long, so
long. My Pappy, and his, and his. A hundred
years. A thousand! You’ve no concept. Older than time. Older than stars.
Protect them all, keep them all safe. All twelve! Twelve!’

‘Barmy,’ snickered Sam. He nudged Lucy.
‘Eh?’

‘Shut up,’ she said. Then, ‘Have you lost
something?’

‘Ram!’ said Madge, her voice high. ‘Bull!
Twins, crab and lion! Girl, weights, stinger! Spike and goat! Water and fish!’

‘Did you say crab?’ asked Lucy. She stepped
aside. The crab was grey underneath, she saw, and it was rough – rougher than
sand.

Madge’s eyes went wide and she froze, for
just a second. She opened her mouth, staring, but all that came out was a
hollow, rasping noise. She raised one hand to her heart, then her throat, and
then to her eyes. Her shoulders trembled. A noise, something terrible and old,
guttural and empty and mad, echoed in the hallway. Something dripped onto the
floor. Madge was sobbing, and then she beat one fist against the door, and she
cried out, again and again, ‘No! No! No!’

‘Screw this,’ said Sam. ‘She’s mental.’

‘It wasn’t us!’ said Lucy. ‘We just found
him. We just found him!’

Madge’s head shot up and she whipped one
arm up, a single finger pointing at the children.

‘How?’
she screeched. ‘Lifetimes have
passed! And always, we guard. And now, lost! How? Why?’

She fell to her knees. ‘Twelve!’ she
sobbed. ‘Oh, Pappy! Oh, my children. What have you done? What will happen now?’

Sam was backing away, shaking his head, a
thin smile on his face, ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Too far.’

‘Sam,’ said Lucy. ‘Don’t.’

‘Come on,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

Madge’s frail voice made them both look
back.

‘It’s the end of the world,’ she said. ‘It
is. That’s what this means. The crab is lost. It’s the end of the world. Just
watch. Just you watch. The sun won’t rise tomorrow. This is it. Today is the
end of the world.’

She lowered her voice, muttering. ‘Armies
went past, kings and lords and older, older, and now children, two children?
No, no.’

She stood up, brushing her skirt, and she
dabbed at her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked at the children. She smiled, her face wrinkled and shining
with tears.

‘I am … relieved,’ she said. She laughed.
‘I am! I’m so tired. Do you know? Do
you know what it’s like to guard the world for a thousand years? For a million?
For all of them? And the pressure!
Ten generations! Twenty! And now me.’

She shook her head.

‘Um,’ said Lucy.

‘Do you know how hard it is to care for a
bull and a ram and the stinger and the fish?
And the girl! She acts so mighty, on her high horse, up in the stars, but she’s
a tart if you ask me.’

She nodded firmly, just once, and rubbed
her nose.

She looked at the children again as if
she’d forgotten they were there.

‘Maybe you didn’t steal him,’ she said.
‘Maybe you did not kill him in all his power. Maybe it was him, and he was
tired too, and wanted to end it all. Maybe.’

‘Do you want me to call a doctor?’ asked
Lucy, remembering her grandmother, and how it had been towards the end.

‘Call who you like,’ said old, mad Madge.
‘Today, the world will end. The things that sustained it are broken. You should
live while you can.’

She pulled her dressing gown tighter again,
and wiped one sleeve across her face.

‘I’ll prepare the others,’ she said. ‘We’ll
all need to move on.’

And she shut the door, cutting off the
light from the flat, and throwing the hallway into gloom again. The crab’s legs
shone but did not move. Lucy looked at Sam.

‘Mad,’ he said, but his voice shook a
little. ‘Really. We’re going to be fine.’

‘Oh,’ said Lucy. ‘Good.’

They both looked down at the crab.

‘Aren’t we?’ asked Sam.

Lucy looked at him, and down again. The
sounds of the world drifted up from outside.